


No Admittance Except on Official Wedding Business

by Zhie



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bilbo Remains In Erebor, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Alternate Universe - Thorin Survives the Battle of Five Armies, F/M, Female Bilbo Baggins, Female Bilbo Baggins/Thorin Oakenshield, Fluff and Humor, Gen, Mister Willoby Threepenny is the Real Star of the Show, Thranduil saves the day, Weddings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-04
Updated: 2018-09-04
Packaged: 2019-07-06 18:08:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,448
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15891288
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zhie/pseuds/Zhie
Summary: As Thorin takes inventory of Erebor, Miss Bilbo makes preparations for their upcoming marriage.





	No Admittance Except on Official Wedding Business

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Nelyasun](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Nelyasun).
  * Inspired by [The Little Details](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/414282) by Nelyasun. 



> Thank you to Nuinzilien & AnnEllspethRaven for their beta reading assistance!

It was day ninety-seven of inventorying the contents of Erebor. This consisted of Balin very patiently walking beside Thorin to assist in the task, of which Thorin was determined to be a part of despite offers from others to oversee the progress of this enormous undertaking, and Ori walking behind, making notes in a book of considerable width that he somehow managed to balance while walking, small glass jar of black ink teetering on whichever page he was not writing, but never once threatening to spill on his work. At times it could be tedious, especially when a room was opened and the gold within needed to be counted to the last coin upon Thorin’s insistence. At other times, it was thrilling to see hidden treasure previously unknown when a door was opened.

Such was the case with the room they entered now.

“Next room. Fifth one of the day,” announced Thorin as he pulled the heavy wooden door open with ease.

“Make that room west thirty-seven, floor four,” corrected Balin as Ori made his notes. “Ah, a fine trove here, sire, and what’s more, it comes with yer nephews,” remarked Balin of the two young dwarves sitting at a table playing cards.

“What’s all this about?” questioned Thorin as his nephews looked at him sheepishly, but gave no indication of moving.

Fili spoke first. “Pardon, uncle, but we needed a break from bringing all of the packages up.”

“Packages?” asked Thorin, though he had a pretty good idea where this was leading.

“Heirloom plates and bowls, silver tea spoons, lace doilies, silk pocket handkerchiefs,” ticked off Kili on his fingers. “Three full carts arrived from the Shire, and Miss Bilbo refuses to let anyone else touch them on account of them being ‘fragile and irreplaceable relics and mathoms’,” he said, the last part of the line in a falsetto to mimic the hobbit-lass.

Thorin raised a brow. “Just remember, when Miss Bilbo is Mrs. Thorin, I expect less sass from the two of you.” Something colorful caught Thorin’s eye, and he walked to a pair of tables that had been cleared of treasure and now held bolts of fabric. “What is this?” he asked as he held up the edge of the cloth. It was midnight blue with large golden flowers and winding green vine work. 

“Ah, that is a gift from one of those fine Elves in Rivendell,” remarked Kili. “It arrived last week. Bilbo intends to use it for her wedding dress.”

Thorin fingered the silky fabric and hid his smile from the others. Another shock of color caught his eye, and he moved to the other table. “Where is this one from?” he asked of the deep red and ivory brocade. 

“Mirkwood. It was sent by the Elvenking there himself,” said Fili. “She plans to use that in the dress, too. I heard rumor there was also a note with it saying how delighted he was to give away the bride.”

Thorin turned and frowned. “We have Elves coming to this?” he asked. His eyes narrowed. “That pompous pointy-eared wood-sprite is giving away my bride? Why was I not informed?”

“Guests of the bride-to-be,” Balin said as he calmly interrupted everything, including making a move to relocate the ink balanced on Ori’s book so that he could set it down during their pause. “She gets to invite her friends and family, too, you know,” said Balin.

Thorin gave a little grunt as he spied a third fabric. “Do not tell me this is also for the dress,” he said of the cornflower blue cotton draped over a chair.

“And what if it is?” challenged Balin gently. “Your bride would look lovely wearing a potato sack. Now, it seems to me this room is rather occupied at the moment, and we can wait until later to finish inventory on this one. Boys,” he called out to Kili and Fili, who were already gathering the cards, “I think Miss Bilbo would appreciate your assistance with the rest of her things from the Shire. I believe there are still six more chests to be brought here.” This information made Kili groan, and Fili bowed his head in defeat. “Thorin, leave the fabric be. ‘Tis bad luck in Hobbit culture for the groom to see the bride’s dress ahead of time,” stated Balin matter-of-factly. 

“It’s not even a dress yet,” argued Thorin, but he dropped the blue cloth back over the chair. “Alright. Let’s not dawdle. I want to finish the rest of the rooms before lunch,” he said. “Let’s get to the one across the hall,” he said as he strolled purposefully out the door.

“Uh, that’ll be west thirty-four, floor four, laddie,” said Balin to Ori as he helped him to rebalance his book and ink.

\---

Several days later, in the midst of a boisterous lunch, Thorin managed to sneak away seemingly undetected from his entourage. He wound his way up and down various flights of stairs just in case anyone--especially Balin--was following him. When he finally reached the fourth floor and stood before the door of west thirty-seven, he looked left, then right, and even over his shoulder, and then made haste to enter the room and close the door behind him.

On one side of the room, all of the treasure there since the beginning had been shoveled and shoved. On the other side of the room, neatly arranged wooden chests and hat boxes were found. The table still held the fabric Thorin saw on the first day, but now there were other things, too--a cushion full of pins, and wooden spools of thread, and a delicate shears obvious used for tailoring. Thorin snorted and shook his head. “Such disrespect of treasure,” he muttered, but he did not go there first. The contents of the chests made him curious, and he went to these instead.

He flicked the latches of the chest up, and pushed the top of the chest open. Within were several embroidered pillows with lace edging depicting scenes that must have been from the Shire. One showed a windmill with cows surrounding it, and another showed a stage surrounded by trees with fireworks bursting overhead. Thorin felt a twitch in his cheek as he began to consider that these items would be found all over his domain. Decorative pillows on the giant leather couch. Drinking beer from painted steins. Lace curtains hanging in their bedchamber. Doilies on everything.

Thorin shoved the pillows back into the chest and went to another crate. This one contained dozens of carved wooden figurines, clay pots of varying sizes and shapes, none of which matched, and a badger mounted on a wooden slab. What was more, the badger was wearing a tiny hat and smoking a pipe. “Mister Willowby Threepenny,” read Thorin from the little etched plate that was nailed loosely to the wooden base. He shook his head and deposited the badger and everything else back into the crate.

“Are you looking for somethin’ in particular, sire?” 

Thorin spun around. Balin was at the door. “When did you get here?” he asked, having not heard the door open. He was sure that the hinges still needed oiling, and it should have creaked, but there stood Balin, hands on his hips, one brow up. 

“After you, sire,” was Balin’s reply. Balin crossed the room to close the chests and replace the lid of the crate. “Did’ja get lost again?”

“I do not get lost. I take alternate routes,” scolded Thorin.

“Of course, sire,” said Balin with a bow of his head. “Where was your final stop on this route that has taken you here to obviously the wrong destination?”

“I came to count the treasure,” Thorin said firmly, and he moved with purpose to the other end of the room.

Balin drummed his fingers on the nearest chest. “And how much of the treasure did’ja find sneaking into the belongins of Miss Bilbo?”

Thorin sighed mightily. “Balin, I think I have the right to know what is being brought into my realm. What if there was a dangerous substance transported here without my knowledge?”

“A dangerous substance?” Balin sat down on the top of the chest and crossed his arms.

“Yes,” Thorin said firmly as he fingered a handful of coins from the treasure pile.

“From the Shire?” prodded Balin.

“You never know,” replied Thorin.

“The only dangerous thing that was ever exported from the Shire is Miss Bilbo herself,” replied Balin, and this did cause Thorin to smile. “You have this entire place. Room after room after room. Great halls and winding mines. Give this one room to her to use for her preparations for your wedding. Besides, we have been over this, you are not to see the dress.”

“That is not a dress yet,” argued Thorin again. “Surely, there must be another room we have already inventoried that we can move her to.”

“She likes this room,” Balin said, motioning his hands around. “Now, one thing I know about women is if they want something, they’ll find a way to get it. You can be gracious and allow it, or you can be pig-headed and stubborn and insist she move, and her wrath will be on the heads of all’v us. Happy wife, happy life,” Balin said in a sing-song voice.

With one final glare at the uncounted coins, Thorin threw the ones he was holding back onto the pile. “Where is Ori? We have more rooms to explore.”

\---

The door of west thirty-seven on the fourth floor slowly creaked open, and the five lit candles of a golden candelabra brought a soft yellow glow to the otherwise dark room. Thorin entered, Ori’s enormous book tucked under his other arm. “No one denies the King entry to his hoard,” he muttered as he set the book down on the table atop the bolts of fabric. He opened it and flipped through until he found the pages that showed the last of the entries made, and the blank spot left for the room he was in. From his pocket he took first a bottle of ink, and then a quill, and then he went to the far corner of the room and began to sort out the piles of treasure, separating Esgaroth currency from Imladrin coins, and stacking gold and silver goblets and trays on the other side of the room. 

Another glow of light made things brighter, and Thorin looked up to see Balin, dressed in a long fur robe with a nightcap on his head, standing in the doorway. “What’r’ya doin’?” Balin had a very judgemental look on his face.

“Counting my treasure,” said Thorin as calmly as he could. He was beginning to suspect that Balin was under orders from his future missus to keep an eye on him.

“There’ll be time enough for that later. I thought we agreed you were goin’ to stay out of this room,” huffed Balin. 

“I agreed to no such thing,” pouted Thorin. “These are my halls, and my rooms, and my treasure. Besides, if you just let me be done with it, then I will stop trying to come in here.”

Balin shook his head, wandered to one of the chests, and sat down. There were even more now, stacked closer together, and he leaned his head against the stack beside the one he sat upon. “One room, sire. One little, out-of-the-way room. She just wants one tiny room. Why’s this so much to ask of you?”

“And she may have it! Once I have properly inventoried all of this treasure, she can paint the walls pink for all I care!” Thorin went to the book and stuck the quill into the ink. “It will not take more than a few hours to go through it all. If you help me, I will be out of here sooner,” added Thorin.

Balin let out a defeated sigh and hopped off of his perch. “And then you promise not to enter?”

“Help me count the treasure,” insisted Thorin.

“Tha’ t’wasn’t an answer,” came Balin’s response, but he walked over to the treasure and began to sort using Thorin’s system. “Have you considered what you might be gettin’ your lovely bride as a weddin’ gift?” asked Balin once he was in a rhythm of stacking coins on one of the tables that had remained empty.

“I thought other people were to give gifts to us,” Thorin said. He had taken up Ori’s duties with the book, and was tallying the stacks as Balin slid them across the table. “What am I supposed to give her?”

“Perhaps a nice piece of jewelry. A brooch or a necklace,” suggested Balin.

“She is getting a ring,” Thorin said pointedly.

Several more stacks of coins were slid across the table. “A new accessory, then. A parasol or an embroidered handkerchief.”

“Have you seen how many handkerchiefs she brought? She has one for each nostril for every day of the week for an entire month! She has a new dress being sewn for the occasion. Surely that should count for something.”

Balin rubbed his forehead with his palm. “It should be something that commemorates your binding. Besides, you do not want to be shown up when she gives you a gift and you have none for her.”

“A gift? She has a gift for me?” Thorin turned around, less interested in the book of accounting. “You know what it is,” accused Thorin.

After clearing his throat, Balin said, “Even if I knew, I would not tell you what it is.”

“But you know there is one, so you must have some idea of what it is.” Thorin turned his attention to the crates. “Is it in one of those? It is, I think,” Thorin decided. Then he frowned. “It is not that ugly stuffed mad badger, is it?”

Balin looked up from his work. “The what?”

“The stuffed badger named… Mister Tiddlywinkers or something.” Thorin pointed at the crate where he believed it was. “Ugly thing. I saw it in there the other day.”

“Which other day? How many times have you been in here?” Balin waggled a finger at Thorin. “You’re lucky Miss Bilbo doesn’t know you’ve been going through her things! How would you like it if she went through all of your personal belongins?”

Thorin shrugged. “I have no secrets. Are you telling me she has something to hide?”

Balin rubbed his face with both hands. “You are lucky to have her put up with you and all your quirks, sire. Now, are we going to resume the counting so that we can both get a little sleep?”

“No. You are deviating from the conversation,” Thorin said. “You know what she has for me as a gift, and I want to know what it is, and I want to know now!” As he said ‘now’, he rapped his fist on the top of the table for emphasis. This did two things--it caused Balin to look up, and it caused the jar of ink to begin to slide off of the book.

“No!” Balin leaped over the table where he had been counting coins, and somehow managed to grab the jar before the black liquid could spill onto the delicate fabrics under the book. “That’s enough!” he declared. “Out!” In case there was any question that he meant out of the room, Balin thrust his arm in the direction of the door.

Thorin blinked and looked at Balin with surprise. “Did you just give me an order?”

“Damn right I did, laddie!” Balin puffed out his chest and rose up to his full height--which still left him a bit shorter than Thorin. “Now, you get yourself back to bed this instant, or I am marching down the hall, and I am going to tell Miss Bilbo--”

“Tell me what?” Standing in the doorway was Miss Bilbo herself. A worn red and yellow striped shawl was wrapped around her shoulders, grasped close, for the hallways were a might bit drafty on the fourth floor. She had a long blue and white checkered nightgown on, but her bare feet peeked out from beneath the hem. Her hair was braided into two puffy braids half sticking out one either side of her head, tied off with blue ribbons. 

Balin rocked on his feet and looked over Thorin, who only now looked a little embarrassed about his decisions. As much as Balin might have liked to have seen Thorin be scolded by little Miss Bilbo for his errors in judgement, Thorin was still Balin’s king and friend. “Well y’see, Miss, Thorin was going to try to move all of this treasure out of the room here so that you had enough room to work on your dress. I assured him that you had more than ample space, and did not mind it being here.”

“Oh! Well, that was very kind and thoughtful of you, Thorin!” Bilbo padded across the room and gave her beloved a peck on the cheek. “I think I have more than enough room, but it would be ever so nice if someone could bring some better chairs up here for when I am working on the dress,” she said. “The chairs in here are all hard and wooden, and they gave my back an ache to sit in them all day. What I would really like is a nice, soft, padded chair--two, please, if we have them,” she said. 

“I think we can find those,” answered Balin, and Thorin nodded.

“That would be lovely. Oh! And sometimes, I get hungry when I am working, and I hate to be a bother about it. There is so little firewood kept here--it would be good if someone could stock the firewood each day, and bring water for tea, and vegetables and salt and flour and eggs for a soup, and, oh, yes, I will need cooking pots and spoons and a kettle for tea. Oh, and tea, and honey, please, I always take my tea with honey, and sometimes cream, so that could be brought, too.”

“Expect it will be done in the morrow,” Balin assured her.

“How very nice of you both! Oh!” Bilbo had just about turned around, but now she was facing the Dwarves again. “I have so little time to do the cooking if I am sewing, so naturally I should have some helpers. Just a few--a maid, a cook, a seamstress or two to help with the dress, a gardener, and a few ladies for company when we have tea.”

“Sorry, a gardener?” It was the first time Thorin spoke since Bilbo entered, and she smiled brightly to hear his voice.

“Yes, a gardener. I should like fresh flowers each day. They do so remind me of home, and it should be a proper gardener retrieving and arranging them.” She batted her eyelashes prettily.

It was enough to melt Thorin almost instantly. “Of course. We shall have a gardener by tomorrow afternoon.”

Bilbo grinned and kissed Thorin’s cheek again. “Thank you! Oh, I am too excited to sleep now! I think I shall work on the dress,” she decided.

“As you wish, Miss.” Balin sealed the jar of ink and gathered up the quill and the book before he nudged Thorin to the door. “I shall see to it that someone brings up firewood right away!”

“Oh, and tea! And honey!”

“Yes, and all the rest, and the staff once we acquire them.” Balin looked over his shoulder when he and Thorin were at the door. “Good evening, Miss Bilbo.”

“Good evening!”

Balin shut the door and gave Thorin a warning look as he handed the book, quill, and ink to him. “And stay out!” he said, wagging his finger before he walked away in search of tea, honey, and firewood.

\---

**No Admittance Except on Official Wedding Business**

That was what the sign on the door said as Thorin approached. He had finished all of the other rooms on the fourth floor now, and despite his attempt to stay away, he found himself constantly wandering over to this room again and again. There was now laughter within, always happy singing or discussion, and an air of merriment that did not seem to be found quite with such flourish anywhere else. Thorin rapped his knuckles on the door, and half-expected Balin to be the one to answer it.

"Hello there!" A spritely young hobbit lass whom Thorin had never seen before answered. "What can I help you with?"

Thorin attempted to peer around her, and did manage a peek over her head. He could not see Bilbo, but he did see several of the other people who had been hired over the last week to fulfill Bilbo's desires. "I was hoping I might come in so that I may finish the inventory we started."

"That sounds very official," said the hobbit-lass, "but it does not sound wedding-business official. Mister Balin said not to let anyone in here, especially not the king." She scrutinized Thorin. "You wouldn't happen to be the king, would you?"

Thorin hesitated just long enough for the hobbit to get suspicious. "Oh, you must be! No, thank you! Please come again later!" The hobbit attempted to close the door, but Thorin had stuck his foot in to block. "Oh! You certainly do mean business!"

"All I want to do is come in and count some coins! It will not be but a few hours, and then--"

"Oh, for pity's sake!" The door was pulled open, and indeed, Balin was inside. "What did we talk about?" asked Balin as he took Thorin by the arm and led him down the hallway. "You must stay out of this room!"

"Then you do the job! If you are in there, you could count it all before supper," huffed Thorin.

"It is the principle of the matter now!" Balin let go once he heard the door to the room close. "Now, off you go. You have your own things to attend to, I'm sure."

Thorin smoothed out his tunic, and as Balin walked away, shouted at him, "They all have to sleep at some point! Even you! Mark my words, I will find a way in there!"

\---

Thorin stood with singular purpose before the door of west thirty-seven on the fourth floor. The door he was familiar with. The sign had become a mainstay since its installation a few weeks prior. The lock was new.

It was a large, iron padlock, and Thorin felt that Balin had gone to great trouble to find the biggest lock he could find to make his point. With a heavy sigh, Thorin poked at the lock, but he had no key, nor had picking the lock been successful (he had tried twice already). Now he took hold of the lock and simply tugged repeatedly with a low growl until he felt the racket would alert someone to his actions. 

With hands on his hips, Thorin continued to stare at the lock. He continued to stand there even as others wandered behind him on their way to bed late or on their way to greet the new day early. He did not notice the person who joined him until he spoke. "What are we looking at?" asked a voice that sounded laced with boredom.

"The door," replied Thorin.

"The door?"

"The lock on the door," Thorin specified. He looked up, and up, and further up, until he locked eyes with King Thranduil. "Why are you here?"

"Mmm. Yes, I had a nice journey, thank you for asking. No, we had no trouble at all finding the place. Yes, our needs have been seen to and our mounts are cared for." Thranduil gave a tired sigh as he crouched down to look at the lock. "Ah. That must be why she sent me this." He stood up again and removed a key from a chain around his neck.

It was a rather large key, and evident to Thorin that it would fit into the lock on the door. "Who gave you that?"

"Your future wife. She had explicit instructions that I should not give it to you." Thranduil smirked. "I believe this is where I am to consult with her and... well, other things that I am certain are boring to you. Excuse me." Thranduil stepped closer to the door, unlocked the lock smoothly, and took it with him as he entered, closed the door, and slid the bolt from within before Thorin could sneak in behind him. "This is a cozy room," Thranduil said from the other side of the door. "It is just as she wrote in her letters."

Thorin tried the door in vain. "Just what has she been writing you about?"

"Oh, this and that. The usual hobbit things. The weather, the food, the picnics, the lack of parties and the drafty hallways." There was a rustling sound within, and Thranduil added, "The dress. Lovely. It is coming along nicely."

"I do not see why you should be allowed in there when I am not," Thorin scolded. "What business do you have in there?"

"I think that is for me to know." Thranduil's muffled voice became louder as he moved toward the door. "So many fun little Shire knick-knacks on display. I can hardly wait to see how she redecorates Erebor for you. Do you like salmon?"

"The fish?" asked Thorin, feeling as if there was some sort of riddle he was falling victim to.

"The color. She has ample supply of finger towels and tablecloths in salmon and turquoise. It will certainly help to brighten your realm," Thranduil remarked.

Thorin shuddered and tried the door again, and then leaned back against it. "Do you actually have something you are supposed to do in there, or--"

"No, just harassing you. If I had known it would be this fun, I would have arrived a week earlier. Hmm, look at this... matching his and hers pipes," said Thranduil from behind the door. "How adorable."

"At least there is one sensible thing in that room."

"Is there a reason there is a pile of treasure in the corner?" asked Thranduil.

"Leave it," growled Thorin, and from within, Thranduil chuckled.

"You think I would have an interest in such a pittance? Honestly, Thorin, I did not realize this wedding cost you so much as to leave your meager holdings in such a state."

"That is but a small portion of the whole of my treasure," Thorin stated with irritation. "I do not have to listen to this. I am leaving."

"Farewell," Thranduil flippantly answered.

"I believe you should leave this room as well," said Thorin. "It is obvious you serve no purpose in there."

Thranduil once again laughed. "I think you wish me out so that you can make an attempt to gain entry."

"No. As I already said, I am leaving."

Several minutes passed before Thranduil spoke at the door, saying, "I can still hear you breathing through the wall!"

"This is my realm and I shall stand where I choose!"

“Could you please stand a little quieter?” 

Thorin turned to see Bilbo directly behind him. “Sorry,” he mumbled. “Did I wake you?”

“Goodness, no! I was just coming back from second breakfast, and I saw some of the Elves from the Greenwood, and so I just had to come up and see if King Thranduil was here, because I tried the suite he has been assigned, but no one came to the door.” Bilbo had one hand in a pocket, and then saw that the padlock was missing from the door. “It seems someone is here!”

“And you have guessed the riddle right,” came Thranduil’s voice from the room.

“Good day, King Thranduil,” chirped Bilbo happily. “I trust you had a nice journey?”

“It was pleasant and uneventful,” replied the king from the other side of the door.

“And you had no trouble finding the right roads?” continued Bilbo despite Thorin’s grumpy expressions directed to the occupant of the room.

One could almost hear Thranduil grinning. “No trouble at all.”

“Excellent. And someone took care of your horses and elks and whatever else you rode in on? And all of the people in your travel party? Have they been tended to? Have the accommodations been adequate?” Bilbo asked.

“Our arrival was met with the greatest respect and the utmost concern for our comfort,” said Thranduil. “Would you like to come into the room?” he asked.

“Yes, please! I have so many things to show you!” Bilbo turned back to Thorin and took hold of one of his rough hands to squeeze it with her petite one. “Thorin, dear, you must excuse me. There are so many things we must finish before the wedding.”

Thorin’s gaze fell to the pocket that Bilbo had her hand in. “What is in your pocket?” he asked. When Bilbo did not immediately respond, he continued with, “Is it a key to the padlock?”

“What?” Bilbo gave Thorin’s hand another squeeze before she turned out one pocket. “Nothing,” she said, and from the other produced, “and string. I do believe that everyone should keep string with them. Why, you never know when it might come in handy! You might have to truss a chicken, or remember a thing, or mend a sock, and string is just so easy to keep in a pocket,” she finished as she shoved it back in, took a step back into the room now that Thranduil had the door open, and blew a kiss to Thorin just before the door was shut.

Thorin blinked at the door for a moment, until he heard Balin’s voice. “Ah, there y’are.” Balin clucked at him and shook his head. “What did we talk about, sire? Leave her be… we have many things to tend to ourselves. The fifth floor will not account itself on its own.”

“But--” Thorin made a helpless motion toward the room as Balin half dragged him off. 

“Fifth floor, sire! That money will not count itself!”

Inside the room, Bilbo kept her hand over her mouth to keep giggles from escaping. Thranduil stood with his head tilted as he waited for an explanation, which Bilbo gave by way of turning out her pockets once Thorin and Balin had left the hallway. One pocket truly was empty, but the pocket with the string also had an extra secret pocket, and in it, the key to the room. 

“Well played, MIss Baggins,” commended Thranduil. He took a look around the room, sizing up the numerous chests and crates. “It looks as if we have quite a task before us,” he decided. 

“That we do,” she declared. “Thank you ever so for offering your assistance,” Bilbo said.

“I still owe you a debt for the return of the Arkenstone,” said Thranduil. “Besides, I rather seem to enjoy myself when I have the opportunity to tease your future husband.”

\---

The inventory of Erebor was completed the day before the wedding ceremony--everything, that is, except room thirty-seven of the fourth floor. That room was still off-limits for Thorin, but apparently, not for anyone else, from the number of Dwarves, Elves, and Hobbits coming and going from the corridor. Balin would not let him near; even his own nephews and sister were allowed in and would speak nothing of it to him. “No one should keep the king from a room in his own realm!” he scolded them all over dinner before he retired early.

As Thorin stomped off, Dis reached over to pat Bilbo’s hand. “Do not worry. It will be worth it. He will understand after the wedding,” Dis assured her future sister-in-law.

“I certainly hope so,” fretted Bilbo, who had not been able to eat much through the meal, and now pushed the plate away. “Maybe I should tell him,” she said, but Thranduil, who had been sitting at their table with his son raised a hand and stood.

“Allow me,” Thranduil said. “Perhaps it is… pre-wedding jitters,” he reasoned as he walked in the direction Thorin had gone.

Thranduil found Thorin standing at the balcony on the fourth floor that overlooked the inner courtyard on the first floor. It also happened to be the spot at the balcony where one would look over the open space and see room thirty-seven on the other side. "Is everything arranged for tomorrow?" asked Thranduil.

"No, I thought we would just play it by ear," answered Thorin. His hands gripped the rail of the balcony as he stared across.

Thranduil drummed his fingers on the rail. "She would not keep you out unless she had a very good reason for it. Have you considered that perhaps she wishes to keep the dress a surprise? That she wishes to take your breath away when you see her for the first time, after all that work she has done on it?"

"She could wear a potato sack, and I would still marry her," said Thorin, recalling a conversation with members of his company months ago. 

"She is going to join you in your life starting tomorrow. No more Shire, no more adventures--unless you are there. No more wanderings on long walks without you, or long nights reading at the fire while smoking a pipe alone. Give her tomorrow, and please do not try to break into that room tonight," advised Thranduil.

Thorin sighed. "Fine."

"What did you decide to give her as a gift tomorrow?"

Thorin rolled his eyes. "Not you, too. Did Balin put you up to this?"

Thranduil frowned. "No, I have seen her gift to you."

"Oh," was all Thorin could come up with.

"You have no gift for her?"

Thorin ground his teeth. 

Silence filled the air for many minutes. "Come with me," Thranduil finally said, and he began to walk without looking to see if Thorin followed. At first, Thorin did not, but his curiosity was strong, and he was soon trailing after the Elven-king, who led the way to the suite he was assigned. When they were inside, Thranduil walked to a chest that was flanked by his own guards. He unlocked it, took another chest from it, and unlocked this one. From it he took a flat wooden box with intricate inlay and beautiful carvings and turned around to hold it before Thorin. He opened the lid, and the jeweled necklace within sparkled and brightened the room.

"Is that what I think it is?" asked Thorin.

"I brought it to give it to Bilbo. When I took it back home, I thought it would give me comfort, but it is a sad memory, and it is something which should be worn, not hidden away in a box for countless centuries." Thranduil closed the lid and held it out to Thorin. "I gave this to my own wife the day we married. I think you should give this to Bilbo, as a token of your love for her on your wedding day."

Thorin hesitated. "I should find my own gift."

"Your wedding is tomorrow," Thranduil said firmly. "One way or another, Bilbo will receive this tomorrow. It will mean more to her if you are the one who gives it to her."

Again Thorin hesitated, but he did reach out for the box. "Thank you," he muttered, and Thranduil bowed his head slightly.

"You know, I am really not the pompous ass you think I am," said Thranduil as Thorin reached the door. Thorin turned around, said nothing, but gave a slight nod of his head as he left.

\---

When asked later, there were few things that Thorin could clearly remember from the wedding. The dress was indeed one of them, for he had waited so long to see it finished, and while he never thought it would work, it truly did, and Bilbo was never more beautiful. It did indeed silence him for most of the evening to bask in the glow of his beloved Bilbo, and to nod at the well-wishes and the gifts heaped upon them from the hundreds of guests who had shown up to celebrate with them. Only after dancing and dinner and more merriment did Thorin recall the ornate box he had hidden under Bilbo’s chair. He leaned over now to whisper to her, and to retrieve the secreted gift, which brought a few tears to her eyes when she opened it. As Bilbo retrieved one of her many handkerchiefs, Thorin glanced over to Thranduil, who again gave him a nod, to which Thorin nodded back.

“What a lovely, incomparable gift!” exclaimed Bilbo after she fanned her face to keep her makeup from smearing. “Oh, do help me put it on, husband, dear,” she said, and Thorin actually smiled to hear this term of endearment, and fastened the clasp behind Bilbo’s neck as she held her hair up for him. Thorin snuck a kiss to the back of her neck before he moved back around to examine his work, and decided Bilbo had never looked lovelier before. 

“We have King Thranduil’s generosity to thank,” Thorin credited, and Thranduil lifted his wine bowl in salute before taking a drink.

“Perhaps it is time for the presents for everyone,” suggested Bilbo, and Thranduil set down his wine bowl with a nod. The Elven-king snapped his fingers, and a small contingent of Elves suddenly appeared, arms heaped with brightly wrapped packages that were now handed out to those in attendance. Bilbo turned to Thorin again. “Since we chose my birthday as our wedding date, I brought along a little Hobbit tradition. I hope you do not mind--everything I had shipped from the Shire were the presents for the guests!” 

“You mean… you are not going to put doilies on all of the tables, and hang lace curtains in our bedchamber, and decorate with salmon and turquoise everywhere?” asked Thorin.

Bilbo laughed, and then gave Thorin her most serious face. “No. Who told you that?”

Both bride and groom looked in Thranduil’s direction. The king picked up his wine bowl and averted his eyes. A few moments later, a package was set down in front of him. “Oh? What is this?”

“Open it,” suggested Bilbo, who positioned herself onto Thorin’s lap. Thorin put an arm around Bilbo to steady her and hoped his beard hid most of his blush.

Thranduil tore off the colorful paper and ribbon to reveal a rather large stuffed cross-eyed badger with a hat and pipe staring at him. “Mister Willowby Threepenny!” Thranduil exclaimed.

“I could see when I showed him to you that you were quite smitten with him,” Bilbo said proudly. “He belonged to my great-uncle Fastolph Bolger, who kept him as a pet. Mister Willowby used to ride next to him when they would take the cart to market. I never knew Mister Willowby in life, but he greeted me at the door every time I went to see my old great-uncle Fasty until his death. Somehow it ended up in my possession--probably because everyone else hated it.”

“Imagine that,” remarked Legolas flatly. He was sitting beside his father, and giving the badger a look of disdain. “Are you really bringing that home?”

“That badger? Yes. You? Not sure yet,” shot back Thranduil as he set Mister Willowby reverently on the table beside his cake and wine. He turned the stand so that the badger was staring directly at Legolas. “Thank you so much, Miss Ba--oh, my mistake. Mrs. Oakenshield. It is a very thoughtful gift, and I truly love it.”

Bilbo clapped her hands, and then turned her head to look at Thorin. “Your gift is too big to hand to you. You may have it as soon as you wish to leave the reception,” she said with a sparkle in her eyes.

“Where is it?” asked Thorin.

“I have it in room thirty-seven on the four---whoa!” Bilbo wrapped her arms around Thorin’s neck as she was lifted up when Thorin stood. “Shall we go now?”

“Now. Yes.” Thorin looked around at the rest of the occupants at their table. “Thank you for coming. Have a good night.”

“You as well,” Thranduil offered as he lifted his bowl of wine and gave Thorin a wink.

“Wait, wait,” insisted Bilbo as she wiggled her fingers at her bouquet, still sitting on the table. Thorin bent at the knee so that she could grab it, and turned them around so that she could throw it over her shoulder. They turned back to see a surprised Tauriel look around as the bouquet landed in her lap. Thorin made another attempt to leave the room, but Bilbo once again stopped him with, “Wait, wait!” 

“What now?” asked Thorin impatiently.

Bilbo lifted up one leg in the air. “The garter,” she said.

Thorin lifted one foot onto the chair so that he could better balance his wife and remove the pale blue garter, which was done partly with his teeth, partly with his hand, and ended up flying up into the air when he lost hold of it.

It landed on the head of Mister Willowby Threepenny.

“Good enough,” decided Bilbo as everyone at the table burst out laughing. “Now we can go!” 

Thorin walked as swiftly as he could without running until he reached room thirty-seven on the fourth floor. Bilbo already had the key to the padlock at the ready when they arrived, and swiftly removed the lock. With Thorin’s hands full from carrying Bilbo, he was at her mercy when she did not turn the knob immediately. “Now, the reason we had to come back to this room for your gift is that this room is your gift,” she said.

“How is that?” asked Thorin.

“I know you like your big, expansive suite of rooms, but I am always going to be a Hobbit,” explained Bilbo. “And Hobbit means cozy and warm and shelves of books and cluttered desks and good food and tea and beer and a pipe to smoke at the end of the day. However, you are a Dwarf, and you will always be, and I hope that this room will suffice for us both.”

Only now did Bilbo open the door, and Thorin carried her across the threshold into a very cozy room. Indeed, there were many Hobbit comforts here, but the style chosen was Dwarven, with angled construction of the furniture and earthy tones. “It is perfect,” declared Thorin.

Bilbo beamed. “I also have… this.” She pulled from her pocket and envelope that she held out to Thorin.

Thorin placed Bilbo on her feet and tore open the envelope. Inside, there was a slip of paper and a key. “This is for the door?” asked Thorin.

Bilbo nodded. “But read the note,” she insisted.

Thorin opened the paper and looked it over. “An inventory list,” he noted.

Bilbo nodded again. “Balin told me how much you wanted to have an inventory of the treasure in this room, so I wrote this all up for you before we worked on the room. The treasure was moved into storage in the next room, in the chests that were used to bring the gifts from Bag End.”

“You wonderful woman,” declared Thorin, and he pulled Bilbo close and kissed her sweetly. “Thank you. This is a most wonderful gift! And, uh, I love the room, too,” he added hastily.

With a smile, Bilbo looked around at the work that had been done. “I had a lot of help from--oh, what is that?” she wondered as she pointed at a wrapped box on the bed.

“You do not know?” asked Thorin. Bilbo shook her head and the pair approached to look at the tag. “It is from King Thranduil,” he announced.

“I wonder what it might be,” said Bilbo.

“We should open it,” said Thorin.

Bilbo lifted the box, and then handed it to Thorin. “It is addressed to you,” she said.

Thorin took the box and read the opposite side of the tag. “From you to Bilbo, from Bilbo to me, from me to you.” Thorin frowned, and lifted the lid of the box, and stared into it with wonder.

“He gave you the Arkenstone,” Bilbo said in awe. “I almost forgot how beautiful it is.”

Thorin looked into the box, and then to Bilbo, then back into the box. “This is something more beautiful than the Arkenstone,” said Thorin as he set the box aside, pulled Bilbo into his arms, and snuffed out the light of the candle.


End file.
